Medusa (44 page)

‘I think you do.'

‘Are you suggesting there was something wrong with the relationship? They met for the first time at that Red Cross barbecue. I told you that. Within a fortnight Gareth
Lloyd Jones left for Gibraltar to take command of this ship. If you're suggesting what I think you are, then they knew each other for much too short a time.'

He looked at me quizzically. ‘No offence, Mr Steele, but it doesn't take long, and it would explain, you see, why Evans would think that by seizing hold of your wife and threatening her life–'

‘That's enough,' I said, pushing back my chair and getting to my feet. ‘You've no right to make allegations like that on hearsay.' I don't know why, but I was angry, for Gareth as well as Soo. I felt he had been through quite enough without having this thrown in his face. And why should Soo's name be dragged into it, just because they were both human and had reacted quite spontaneously to something they couldn't help?

Standing there, I told Wheatcroft what I thought of him. ‘You post a man to the command of a ship that's half volunteers, half throw-outs, tell him to do the impossible, and then when he does it, you come here chairing an enquiry that will send him to court martial, and you have the effrontery to suggest, as a means of destroying him, that he was having an affair with my wife.'

He smiled, oddly enough quite a warm smile. ‘You say he wasn't having an affair, that there is no truth –'

‘Of course I do.' And I added, ‘I would hardly have gone on board his ship in Malta if I had suspected anything like that, would I?' I made it a question in the hope that he would believe me.

‘So, if there was a court martial, you would categorically deny that there was any truth in the allegation?'

‘Certainly.'

‘You would be under oath remember.'

I nodded. I didn't trust myself to say any more.

‘And that suggestion was never made by Evans when he was alone here with the two of you trying to persuade Lloyd Jones to leave Mahon?'

‘It was made,' I said. ‘As a try-on. Having grabbed my
wife, he was probing on the off-chance he could use her more effectively.'

‘And it didn't work?'

‘No.'

‘It had no connection with the subsequent grounding?'

‘Why should it if it wasn't true? In any case, Gareth –' and I used his Christian name then for the first time – ‘was fixing it so that there was no way they could get him to leave port. Soo didn't come into it.'

‘And your testimony as regards that will stand at the court martial?'

‘If he's court-martialled, and I'm called to give evidence, then that's what I shall say.'

He stared at me a moment, then turned to the other two Board members. ‘Any further questions, gentlemen?' And when they both shook their heads, he smiled and got to his feet. ‘Then that's all, Mr Steele.' He held out his hand. ‘Thank you for coming here to give evidence.' He called to the petty officer waiting outside and ordered him to see me off the ship. Then, turning to me again, he said, ‘I'm hoping to have a little party here on board before I leave. Perhaps you and your wife would care to come – a small return for the trouble we have caused you.' He looked round at his colleagues. ‘Tomorrow evening, don't you think?' They nodded and he said to me, ‘Tomorrow evening then, six o'clock say. The launch will pick you up shortly before.'

It cannot be every day that the Chairman of a Board of Enquiry gives a party on the afterdeck of the very ship whose grounding he has been enquiring into. But the circumstances were exceptional, and so was Julian Wheatcroft's behaviour. No sign of the distant severity he had shown as Chairman of the enquiry. Now all the well-educated charm of the man was back in place as he greeted his guests on the flight deck. The borrowed deck
pumps had been temporarily stilled, the ship relatively quiet, and it was one of those really lovely Menorcan evenings, the air warm and not a breath of wind.

I watched him as he greeted Soo, a little bow and a warm smile, his eyes travelling quickly over her body and fastening on her face, alert, watchful, sexually aware. The same watchfulness was there as she and Gareth greeted each other. It was obvious he was trying to make up his mind whether or not they had been lovers. She had assured me they had not, that it had been purely emotional. In retrospect, I see his problem. An emotional involvement did not concern him, only a physical one, particularly if the result were a child.

I had warned Soo that she would be virtually on show and that for Gareth's sake, if not for mine, she should be on her guard. In the event, she carried it off perfectly, greeting Gareth with an easy friendliness, offering him her cheek, smiling and happy-looking as she congratulated him on having survived such a difficult assignment. She did it with just the right touch of intimacy and warmth. I was proud of her, and watching Wheatcroft, I saw him relax, then turn away to say something to Lovelock, the commander from Plans, who had also been monitoring the meeting between Soo and Gareth. He nodded, the down-turned corners of his mouth twisting themselves into an unaccustomed smile. He, too, seemed suddenly relaxed.

It was a very small party, Gareth the only one of
Medusa's
officers present, Soo and myself the only civilians. The other guests were the admiral commanding the Spanish fleet, his flag officer, and Fernando Perez from the Naval Base with his wife Ramona. Afterwards, when I talked it over with Soo, I found she had come to the same conclusion I had, that Wheatcroft's first objective in hosting such a very select little party was to take a look at her and check that it was safe for the Board to take the line it had virtually decided on.

His second objective was, of course, to make a short speech, largely for the benefit of the Spanish admiral and the commander of the Mahon Naval Base. For this he had arranged that Lieutenant Sykes should be waiting on deck so that the brief and very political speech he made was instantly translated into Spanish. And when he had finished, it was the Spanish admiral's turn to make a little speech.

Whether the admiral had been briefed or not I do not know, but at the end of his speech, when we were all applauding, he brought from his pocket an ornate little case, went across to Gareth, and taking out a bright ribbon with a decoration suspended from it, hung it round his neck.

Poor Gareth! He had clearly had no warning of this. He stood there for a moment, a flush on his face and his mouth opening and closing, no words coming. Finally, in desperation, he gave a naval salute and murmured one word, ‘
G-gracias
.'

I thought that was the end of it. I think we all did. But then Julian Wheatcroft stepped forward again and said, ‘There is something else I wish to say.' Victor Sykes was again translating the English into Spanish and I believe his continued presence to have been deliberate, ensuring as it did that the gist of everything that was being said would pass round the ship. ‘Normally the findings of a Board of Enquiry are confidential and only revealed later when an announcement is made as to whether or not a court martial will result. However, the risks that Lieutenant Commander Lloyd Jones, his officers and men accepted and faced make the circumstances of
Medusa's
grounding quite extra-ordinary.' He separated the words out so that they had the older, stronger meaning. ‘And because I was very conscious that any recommendations I might make might be overturned, I've spent much of today in an exchange of signals with CINCFLEET and the Ministry of Defence. I may say that the Board was quite unanimous
in its view that court martial proceedings were inappropriate in this case and I now have a directive –' and here his voice became very formal and deliberate – ‘from the Secretary of State for Defence, approved personally by the Prime Minister, that in the exceptional and unprecedented circumstances of the grounding it has been decided to rule out any question of a court martial.'

He paused there, then moved a step or two towards Gareth. ‘I, too, have a gift for you. It is not, I'm afraid, as valuable or as beautiful as the decoration with which you have been honoured by the King of Spain. It was given to me just before I left London. It is from 10 Downing Street, a personal letter from the Prime Minister to you, and to all those serving on board HMS
Medusa
.' The long envelope in his hand, he stepped forward, handed it to Gareth, then took a step back and gave him a magnificent salute.

There was a long pause, Gareth staring down at it, Welsh emotion strangling any reply, actual tears in his eyes. It was a moment we all shared, but having been with him on various very crucial occasions, I could appreciate more than any of the others on the flight deck the depth of his feeling, the ordeal he had been through – not only facing the prospect of imminent death for himself and the men serving under him, but later in the loneliness of waiting for his career to be terminated in a court martial.

Poor ol' Byng!
I remembered his words, slurred with drink, and now I saw him crying openly, the Spanish decoration catching the last of the sun as he pulled himself together and returned Captain Wheatcroft's salute.

Ralph Hammond Innes was born in Horsham, Sussex in 1914. He was educated at Cranbrook School in Kent, which he left in 1931 to work as a journalist, initially with the Financial Times. He went on to become a prolific author, penning over thirty novels as well as children's and travel books – his first novel,
The Doppelganger,
was published in 1937.
Innes served in the Royal Artillery during WWII, eventually rising to the rank of Major; during the war a number of his books were also published. After being demobbed in 1946 he worked full-time as a writer, achieving a number of early successes. He produced books in a regular pattern: six months travel and research and then six months of writing. With this quick turnover, he had sixteen further novels published before 1960, many of which featured the sea. From the 1960s his rate of work was reduced but was still substantial, and he became more interested in ecological themes. Innes continued writing up until his death in 1998.

Discover books by Hammond Innes published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/HammondInnes

Medusa
Solomon's Seal
The Conquistadors
The Trojan Horse

This electronic edition published in 2013 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP

First published in Great Britain 1988 by William Collins Sons & Co Ltd
Copyright © 1988 Hammond Innes

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eISBN: 9781448210817

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